


Her Fantasy, His Reality

by TergenBurgen



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Betrayal, F/M, Fan Characters, Fun, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 18:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13463589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TergenBurgen/pseuds/TergenBurgen
Summary: Amber, a young American making her way in England, runs into her favorite YouTubers; Hat Films. Their lives will collide as Alex Smith falls for her, and all seems well. Except for the fact that they never knew she was a fan. Will she tell him? Will it turn him away?Find out in this romantic journey of love and life, that comes to a dark twist.





	Her Fantasy, His Reality

Amber could hear the bustle of the pub before she had even opened the door. The warm lighting seeped out through tinted windows, and people poured in and out of the building. The chilled air was practically humming with contented chatter. She did her best to suppress a grin as she dodged a man and stepped in. It may have just been a bar, but everything seemed so… charming in England. Or maybe it was just her and her small town, American mindset. Either way, it had been a long day at work, and she was going to ogle at these handsome British men and their delightful accents if she wanted to.

There was, luckily, a seat open at the counter, so she quickly made her way over, squeezing herself in between a haggard-looking blond woman and a man whose shoulders were far too broad to sit with comfortably. She ordered and leaned back to wait. It was crowded, to say the least. Hopefully, she would be served quickly because she was sitting at the counter, but she wasn’t really concerned with that. Amber found enjoyment in simply listening to those around her, observing her surroundings. It was a sort of pastime, and it allowed her to ignore things that would normally be tedious, like waiting a half hour for a drink. 

She glanced at the people to her left. There were two men turned towards each other, so she assumed they were friends. The one was a brunette slip of a guy who was constantly brushing a fringe of hair out of his face. The other guy was the broad-shouldered one next to her. She didn’t look at them for more than a second, but she caught sight of the larger man’s messy, red-tinted hair. Or maybe it was just his beard, casting a red shade on his face. The sight sent fanciful images into her head that it could be Alex Smith.  
A dreamy, half-sarcastic sigh escaped Amber’s lips as her purposefully non-alcoholic drink was set down in front of her. She picked it up and took a sip, thoughts running wild with the possibilities. Her father had always told her that it was the curse of a creative mind; one little detail could trigger a hundred scenarios and ideas to shoot off in her brain. Sometimes she played with the idea of writing things down, making… fanfiction, or something of the sort. But she always reminded herself that she was a journalist, not some teenage girl, fantasizing about her internet crush.

Amber ignored the fact that she was only twenty-two, and that she did play out the scenarios in her brain. There was a sort of line in her head, and she felt like writing down fanfiction was crossing it. Or maybe it wasn’t, and she simply didn’t have time. Or she felt like it was childish, and she was trying to grow up. There were a million reasons she could come up with, none of them really relevant; all of them spending too much time explaining a trivial thing.

She looked up as her food was set down in front of her. With her thoughts derailed, she returned to listening to the conversations around her, letting people’s words and accents drift over her. Some days she would hear a fellow American accent, brash and wide in the flow of English, and it would have two effects. She would feel a pang of homesickness, toying with the idea of returning to her family even though she’d only been away a couple months, and then she would feel comforted by the familiarness of the tone. It was a war of emotions every time.

But this night, there was no American in the bar. Just exotic British voices and… one incredibly familiar laugh. Amber glanced to the side again, but the somewhat-ginger man still had his head turned away. She pursued her lips curiously. It was probably just her brain, tainting the world with her creative flair because she was tired, but that laugh had sounded a lot like Alex Smith’s. ‘Alsmiffy.’ One-third of her favorite youtube group, whom she watched every night, and had been watching for a couple years. 

Amber shook her head. It couldn’t be him, though. Sitting right next to her. The odds were too slim, there was no way- There. There it was again. That laugh was definitely familiar, even if it wasn’t Alex Smith’s. But if it wasn’t him, then whose voice was that? She tilted her head to the side, thinking and staring intently off into space. She felt someone brush against her and she shook her head free of thoughts, focusing in on the distracting culprit.

The man next to her turned halfway to face her, muttering an apology as he pulled his drink towards him. 

She had only seen him for a split second, but that was enough. Internally, she screamed. Externally, her body maliciously worked against her and caused her hand to spasm, sending her drink flying. It clanged against Alex’s glass, and the two beverages waterfalled to the floor. Her first thought was, Oh, I bet that was whiskey. Then it was, Oh my god, I can’t believe I just did that. And then it all dissolved into, Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

“U-uh- shit, I’m sorry-” Amber stuttered, frozen for a moment before she scurried to set both of their glasses upright. “I don’t- I’m- I-”

A slow grin spread across his face and he sluggishly licked his bottom lip. Amber almost froze again, transfixed by him. “It’s fine, mate, no worries,” he chuckled a little. 

Amber blushed madly. “O-okay, sorry-”

Alex glanced down, amused. He lightly circled his finger over the top of his glass. “You might want to try and clean up though…”

“Wha-?” She looked down, brow furrowed, and discovered that her lap had caught the majority of the drinks before they cascaded to the floor. “Fffffffffff-fudge.” She scowled, expression dry and unamused, feeling like a complete idiot. When Amber looked back up she noticed Alex struggling not to laugh, and her face flushed even redder with embarrassment. Amber huffed frustratedly, her movements jerky and strained as she shoved away from her seat and stood up. “Can you watch my seat for me?” She asked, a bit sharply because she was upset with herself. 

“Uh,” Alex raised his eyebrows, a suppressed smile ghosting over his features. “Sure, yeah.”

Amber wrapped her hand tightly around the straps of her wallet purse and hurried to the entrance to the bathroom in the corner. Once she was a good few feet away there was an outburst of laughing behind her, and her face bloomed an even deeper red than before if that was even possible. She walked faster, blood pulsing in her ears. 

Inside the bathroom, she scrubbed her shirt with water and held it up to the hand driers for a few minutes. As she stood there, she stared into the mirror at her disheveled appearance. The mad blush was only starting to fade away - curse her tendency to turn into a tomato when she was embarrassed - and her frizzy brown hair seemed to have exploded, as it often did when she was upset. She didn’t recall touching it, but it was all over the place, sticking up and waving around at the prospect of collecting more static electricity. 

With a sigh, Amber let go of her still-damp shirt and tried to flatten down her hair. It failed to work of course, and she ended up just yanking it into a tight ponytail. She took a deep breath to calm herself. 

Amber never wanted to make herself look like a fool. No one ever does. But somehow, every time she meets someone that she really admires, or likes, (or wants), she always manages to screw it up in some way that she didn’t have a contingency plan for, thus making herself look like a buffoon. “Of all ways to meet him,” she muttered under her breath. The door swung open and the blond woman she saw earlier hurried to a stall. Amber quickly straightened her damp shirt out, trying to play off the fact that she had been talking to herself in the mirror. 

Taking a deep breath, Amber steeled herself to go back out. If she could just keep herself calm and collected for the rest of the night, it might turn out nice. In fact, she might even end up going home with him and- No, nope. Stop that. She gave herself a good shake, then pushed her way back to her seat, which Alex had indeed watched for her. She smiled, feeling that traitorous blush come back. 

“Sorry, about that, Alex,” She said, grabbing his attention as she sat down. Thankfully someone had cleaned up the mess - she hadn’t even checked if the seat was still wet. “I have serious issues with my coordination.” 

Alex gave a little chuckle at her strained attempt at a joke. “It’s no problem. I’m surprised I hadn’t spilled anything yet.”

“Yeah, drunk as you are,” The brunette man said snarkily, and Amber realized with a shock that it was Trott. 

“I’m not that drunk,” Alex sloppily rolled his eyes, showing just how drunk he was, and Amber giggled, thinking in her head how cute it was. “I’ve only had three drinks so far.”

Chris snorted, but he cast a narrow-eyed glance in Amber’s direction, making her fidget nervously. She wondered if she had said something wrong, but quickly dismissed the feeling as her own paranoia. 

“Well, anyways, let me buy you another drink since I threw your other one on the ground,” She said cheerfully, letting her fingers brush Alex’s arm. She felt a little thrill at that. 

“Oh, no, it’s fine-”

“Please,” she interrupted him, “indulge me. I’ll feel guilty all night if I don’t.” Even though you humiliated me by laughing behind my back. Amber brushed the thought away, consoling herself with the fact that she was talking to Alex fricken Smith. He couldn’t do anything wrong. 

“Well, I guess that’s alright.”

Amber beamed at him, and he gave her a little grin in return. She quickly ordered a fresh set of drinks, even buying a beer for Chris, and soon they were all settled and content.  
“My name’s Alex, by the way, and this is Chris,” he said, pointing at his friend. Amber nodded knowingly, a tiny smile on her face that she tried hard to conceal. Chris’s eyes were narrowed again.

“I’m Amber,” she replied. 

The quick introductions set off an entire lengthy conversation, which Amber only took part in minorly. She told him about the journaling gig she had snagged for a big name blog based in Bristol and explained how she missed her family from America. But besides that, she mostly gazed at him while he talked, only half-listening as he went on about his old management jobs and the band he was in. She correlated his movements with the vlogs she had watched, admiring how his whiskey-darkened eyes glinted under the dim bar lights.

Chris sat in the background, interjecting only rarely. He was watching Amber and Alex with a disturbing intensity, though, and it concerned Amber. She couldn’t tell if she was nervous about being found out as a fan or if she worried that he was collecting conversation bits to use as jokes in a video. 

At some point in the conversation, it came out that Amber had never drank, not even after she turned 21. So of course, Alex ordered another whiskey and insisted that she try it. Amber took a tentative sip, feeling it in her mouth like a quiet sizzle.

“Oh, come on, take a bigger swig than that!” Alex cajoled her. 

“Alright, alright. Fine,” she grumbled, complying. The mouthful burned like acid down her throat and she almost gagged on it. The room suddenly felt much warmer, and a pleasant heat settled in her stomach. It was overall a very strange experience, so she jumped head first into the currents of nervous energy rushing her forward and downed the rest of the whiskey. She felt ecstatic at having tried her first drink, especially with since it was with Alex. 

Eventually, though, the night had to end. Chris spoke up, saying to Alex, “Mate, we better head off. It’s getting late.” Amber glanced quickly at her phone, noticing with a shock that it was almost three am and the bar was near closing. They had been having such a nice time that no one but Chris noticed. 

Alex tried to frown, but his drunken reflexes refused him, and instead, he beamed a grin at Amber. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around. Maybe…” He shrugged in a dejected manner.

A wave of disappointment flooded Amber’s senses, but it was followed by a burst of spontaneity that she could only attribute to the alcohol. “Here,” she got out a pen and scribbled her number on a napkin, “Call me sometime, okay?” She smiled anxiously. 

He took the napkin with a massive grin, saying, “Okay,” before Chris dragged him off.

Amber paid her bill and headed home to her ‘flat.’ She wanted to collapse on the ground, flop around, and giggle with suppressed excitement. But instead, she collapsed into bed and mournfully considered the idea that she wouldn’t get a call. That idea followed her with a sigh into slumber.


End file.
